


Come Closer

by Viure



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pining, and a ton of sass, or is that just mutual interest/disgust?, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:44:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viure/pseuds/Viure
Summary: He watches the Third while he holds his war councils, and thinks that one person shouldn’t be able to inspire such a blind type of greed in anybody.





	Come Closer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/gifts).



> A thank-you for shipcat for hosting the Akatsuki Gift Exchange over on Tumblr. It was fantastic fun <3
> 
> [accompanying sasori art piece @tumblr](http://viurasart.tumblr.com/post/184186561813/come-closer-ao3-thatshipcat-so-if-youre)

He watches the Third while he holds his war councils, and thinks that one person shouldn’t be able to inspire such a blind type of greed in anybody.

Much less in him.

Sasori doesn’t merit a seat (not yet), so he stands at the edge of the room along the walls. The seats are for the elders, honoured or not, and everybody else can stand while they get their marching orders. The Third rarely bothers with pleasantries, and it suits Sasori just fine. It keeps the meetings short, does not encourage him to ponder the peculiarities of the Third’s expressions for longer than absolutely necessary, and leaves him with more time in his workshop than if one of the jonin were to dole out missions.

He has no time for patience, except when he works to create something that ought to outlast him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he sees some of his own caged restlessness in the Third.

\-----------

It's precisely that restlessness that makes him go outside deep in the night. He knows better, and there is little of importance within Suna that escapes his notice to begin with. It’s not hard to track the dense chakra permeating the village to the edges of it. He’s much better at controlling and suppressing his own chakra than sensing that of others, but the first time he found the Kazekage there, he simply saw him, didn’t feel him any more than usual. He stayed away, as he has since.

That doesn’t mean he stopped watching. He recently confirmed the Third’s nighttime outings as a pattern, therefore making the knowledge immediately useful. Far be it from him to judge how his majesty spends his nights, but it is a simple weakness considering his guards are left behind; one that could be ignored, but as a loyal shinobi of Suna, he’d be remiss to. That’s what he tells himself as justification.

The walls of Suna cast everything below them in a chilly shadow. There are enough creatures that have made their homes within the porous interior, but they are as quiet as the human inhabitants the walls ought to protect. On this side, paths to the top of the cliffs have been hewn out of the stone, a facetious nod to the civilian part of the population. He takes the stairs. It is the long way, but he has time to spare now. The dirt crunches beneath his soles as he shivers in his flak jacket, apprehension warring with an almost avaricious curiosity. This is self-indulgence at its purest form, but there is no one there to scold him for it, hasn’t been anyone for that in a long time, and it wouldn’t stop him anyway.

\-----------

On the top of the walls, it’s no surprise to find the Third facing outwards. Everything done for the village, though rarely acknowledging if it’s not of tactical importance. The desert stretches out before them, the influence of the oasis that makes life possible there not reaching beyond the edges of the gates. The night sky blankets them. The stars are bright here, and as he stares ahead (doesn’t stare at the Third, like he’d much rather do), Sasori imagines he can see the light pollution from Ame from this distance. The wind rustles as it always does, but besides that, he hears little sounds but his own breathing. It’s peaceful, in a way. The war has picked up in intensity, but it will never reach Suna itself.

The Third doesn’t acknowledge his presence.

Mildly vexing, hardly unexpected.

He knows exactly how much time has passed when the Third breaks his gaze away from the horizon towards him, and if his vexation has increased in that period, he will not show it in his face. That would be crude. He is granted a glance – he’d call it a lazy one, even though it lasts less than a second.

Not showing it would mean tolerating it however, and that is unfortunately also unacceptable.

“I would tear down the sky for you.” Sasori speaks slowly – lilting enunciation, clear articulation, words devoid of any feeling.

“You think it necessary?” When four words could suffice, the Third doesn’t waste any more syllables than necessary on him. His tone is infuriatingly light. As if it is nothing to him, to inspire that devotion. A birthright – something that comes equally as easy as breathing.

Sasori wants to reach out. Cross the three steps of separation between them, and imagines digging his fingers into a shoulder until they draw blood. Ask him if he knows what price Sasori has paid for admitting that. It’s a weakness, one that will cost him his peace of mind, regardless of whether he had spoken the words – admit it to himself, and he can never leave that.

Third turns towards him – if he has a sense for murderous thoughts, the less than neutral expression on Sasori’s face may have set it off – and looks at him. Looks at him, doesn’t glance, but looks like he’s fully taking his presence into account. Not completely judging, but also not devoid of it.

“I don’t need you to tear down the sky.” The Third’s voice comes out as humorless as it does when discussing strategy with the platoon leaders. Now that he considers it, even then he sounds more enthused than now. Still, there’s a slight flicker in his appraising eyes that could be anything, but Sasori imagines to be teasing. (This. This is the price pays, hanging on the way the light of the stars reflects in the eyes of the Third – utterly disgusting.) And he picks up, with a familiarity borne of hours spent contemplating that voice while he works, the slight infliction on you.

He doesn’t let it show.

In the distance, the sky is lightening.

“I’ll settle for the Grass.”

A concession. In turn, Sasori thinks he can settle for that.

For now.

He schools his features back into a careful neutrality. Blank, but not entirely. The Third is free to judge him; but so is he, and he will not gracefully bow and thank him for this. He would not do so in daylight, if this was an ordinary mission, and he will especially not do so now. Sasori allows himself a smile.

“I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”


End file.
